


Waves

by LadyShigeko



Category: Versailles (TV 2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-12 18:42:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21481066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyShigeko/pseuds/LadyShigeko
Summary: Of a king that lost his course in the unruly waters of his court and a prince that almost drowned in the unruly waters, his brother left behind during his voyage to find his course again.Of a king that plotted his own way again and a prince that followed more or less safely in his wake.To say I'm bad at summaries is the understatement of the century. Sorry you have to read it yourself (it's short enough at least)If you have any better suggestions, please do not hesitate to let me know :)
Relationships: Chevalier de Lorraine / Philippe d'Orléans | Monsieur / Louis XIV, Chevalier de Lorraine/Philippe d'Orléans | Monsieur (Versailles 2015), Louis XIV/Philippe d'Orléans | Monsieur (Versailles 2015)
Kudos: 12





	1. Louis

King Louis XIV came back from the war without announcing himself beforehand. He wanted to catch them all unaware.

And he managed that if you take into account the stricken faces of his nobles and his queen after he burst into their little play of justice. They as judges and the Madame de Montespan as the accused, who had been found guilty from “judge and jury” for this deed, imaginary or real, before this charade, had even begun. They acted like they really had the power to act out the sentence they agreed on.  
His queen trying to get rid of his lover, how cute.

But if it was one thing he had realized during this awful night in the monastery, during the meeting with this wannabee king of Orange, that meeting that never happened, then it was that he was the king and the decision was his to make. Only his and no one gets a say or influence it.

Once he had been so sure and known this truth, which his mother taught him in her lap.

But he had lost his way in the labyrinth that turned out to be the building of Versailles. All the daily squabbles and the mistrust that the Holland spies had sown and the traitors in their own ranks had turned his Palace into a maze. But now he saw clear again. He had arisen from the ground that he had let himself be pulled onto as his lovers had sunken their claws into him and had let himself be persuaded to change his mind, to bend and bow to their wishes.

Now he hovered again above them all as the sun shone on them every day, he would lighten up his kingdom so brightly that everyone had no other choice but to see him and his glory. And with his light, he would lighten up the dark places where all that was making his Kingdom ill had been blooming.

He was alone again at the top. He needed no one because he was king. This truth, that he had given William of Orange during their parting.

He had found his self-confidence again. When a King was not sure of himself, had no greater plan or vision, then how could he lead others and show them the way?

\---

Afterwards, when Bontemps had caught him up to date of what had happened during his absence, he began to plot and plan.  
He could clearly see the path he had to thread.

\---

During his bath, his brother lounged against the wall and balustrade of his chambers, like his usual self and somehow not. He seemed to have changed during his absence, but the king had changed more.  
Or more accurately he had changed back to his former self.

“Welcome back, brother. As you can see, the palace still stands.”

Those were the words Philipps's mouth spoke, but his eyes told something different, something more.

%I'm happy you’re back whole and alive, without injuries. See, I can hold the front here without your help.  
I'm not useless. You can trust me. I love you. There is so much I want to tell you. Please can’t you see that you can trust me? I will always have your back… even if you keep on hurting me. I love you, brother.%

It was reassuring to know, that some things will always remain true and never change. The love that they shared was one of them. The sun will rise every day, spring will follow winter and Luis and Phillipe will always be brothers, will always have each other’s backs at the end of the day, no matter what happened. Even if Louis forced his brother to marry, to father children although he knew how hard and impossible this was for Philippe. Or to deny him the freedoms to leave and rather keep him closes by his side but without giving him a job, a task or even go so far as to send his brother's lover away. To refuse him the glory of war, that he so craved.

Phillipe would always be there and have his back; he would hurt on the inside but would overcome it; for Luis.  
At this moment Luis swore to himself that he would show him how much he appreciated him.

He may be King and have no equal, would always be alone in his self-imprisoned golden cage, but he would be alone together with Philippe, who shared his fate of albeit differently. The ministers, his lovers and even the queen would never come closer to him, then the earth to the sun. They would circle him, never leaving their set course. But if Luis was the sun, Philippe was the moon. Without the moon, there would be no sun, or it would not shine so brightly. His oldest confidence, when all would leave his brother would remain.

That’s a comfort William of Orange could never have. If he was ready to turn traitor on his allies at the drop of a hat and ally with France and to not do anything to safe De Witt. He must have known what was going on. William of Orange would forever be alone. Had no one to trust. And he, Luis would have his brother, forever at his side and the fun part was, that neither Luis nor Phillipe could do anything change this. The joy of having a sibling and being so close to them as they were, and in other matters so fare from each other. But they had always known on which ground they stood with each other and how fare they could push the other. Louis was aflame with a new purpose, and going from the surprised frown on his brother’s pretty face he realised that wind was coming, a storm was brewing that would leave nothing untouched and would clean out this madhouse that Versailles had become. They also knew that their relationship with each other would likely take on a new course.

Luis had seen who he could trust and to which extend and Philippe was on number one, right after himself of course.

\----

§Pregnant, his little brother had somehow managed to get his wife pregnant.§

This thought needed a while to be fully processed in the king’s head.

%You see, brother? I got my wife with child. That is what you wanted. Are you proud of me?% Those were the words not spoken aloud but clear to hear for Luis as his brother gazed in his eyes while he congratulated him and his wife.

\----

Fabien had finally uncovered the source of the poisoning and showed the true extension to the whole affair. The widespread net throughout Versailles that had spread like a disease.

He went to Anténais one last time and realized that it truly was the last time. She had betrayed and deceived him; let him astray so that he the king would do her biddings. Was she really so desperate to keep the king's favour to stoop so low as to fall back to such methods? No more.

He had come to this resolution on the battlefield and made the final decision during those sleepless nights he had spent alone.

But this, this meeting was the final drop for him. It showed him that it was over and had been for quite some time. He may not be distracted trough a mere woman.

\---

A few days later, after he finally had painfully cut out Madame de Montespan from his heart and his bed, he was lying awake in bed, sleepless again. He was restless again.

His time away had enabled him to see much problems form a different angle and to solve them. He had gained the deeded distance to recognise and solve the problems of his kingdom.   
And now back at Versailles, he would put his resolutions in motion.  
But still, sleep was eluding him, again. He had hoped that it would be better now, that he had started to execute his plans.  
But no, he restlessly turned from one side to another and finally gave up on sleep altogether.

Dimly he registers that Bontemps quietly stood up and left his chambers via the secret door. Then it was quiet again but still, the King found no peace.

\----

Bontemps meanwhile had had enough of his King, his friend, finding no rest and suffering.  
The faithful valet had hoped that the time away would enable the king to finally find sleep but that did not seem to be the case. He decided to go to the one person that would and could help him now; the Kings younger Brother.

But as Bontemps arrived in the chambers of the Duce d'Orléans he found them empty.

§Could it be…§, he wounded and turned to the chambers of the Princes wife, where he indeed found the couple asleep.

\---

The Prince woke up slightly disorientated but as he realised that a worried Bontemps had woken him up, he was instantly fully awake.

"What is it? The Chevalier, my brother?", he asked the faithful vale sharply and slightly worried.  
Bontemps had the same look on his face like the last time he had disturbed Phillipe and his lover to tell him about his worries about the King when he had asked, begged for his help.

"Bontemps?"

"I need your help again, please, it's the king", pleaded a really worried Bontemps.

"Is he hurt? Talk!", ordered a now slightly worried Prince.

"No, not as such, but he is restless. He has not slept truly in months I fear and the time on the battlefield did no good to him either in this matter. Please, you have to help me. Surely you know a way to get him to sleep. You know him the longest", begged the valet now franticly, almost in tears.  
He really was at the end of his Latin. He had tried all he could, all that had helped before but still, the King was too restless to sleep.

Phillipe took a deep breath and placed his legs gently on the floor. Firmly he grabbed Bontemps on both upper arms. "Look at me. Deep breaths. I'll help you. No worry I have this in hand, come bring me to him."

\---

Wordlessly the Prince followed the valet trough the dark secret passaged till they stood for the entry to the king’s chambers. "Please, please help him."

The prince looked at Bontemps with a piercing and resolute gaze. "I will try my best."

\---

Luis turned his face as the door behind his mirrored wall began to crack open. But it was not his valet that entered, but his brother. Abruptly but still half-dazed in his almost asleep state, he sat up. Before he could do or say anything else though, Philippe was upon him. He dragged him out of bed, put him into his own nightgown and dragged him along. Said good night to Bontemps and closed the door.

The king was too baffled and dazed to do anything but follow.

Something in his brother had changed. He seemed driven and determined to see this trough, whatever he had in mind. But Luis could think about a few things Bontemps wanted Phillipe to do to him.  
Like the last time, the Prince lent his words to Bontemps regarding his lover. Because it was clear that Bontemps was behind this.

But now the mood seemed to have changed. His brother walked with a newfound propose and as they reached his chambers, the first thing after closing the door and ensuring that all doors were locked from the inside was to push the still baffled king with his back against a wall.

Then he sank to his knees and lifted the Kings sleeping dress. Before Louis came to his senses and realized what was happening, his brother's mouth had closed around the king’s member and swallowed it down to the root.

Eagerly sucking on it as if he was starving and the flesh in his mouth was the salvation. Hungrily Philippe devoured his brothers cock, worshipped it.

Luis opened his mouth to protest but could only moan. He was instantly hard. His brother was a master with his mouth.  
He was not only a master with words but quite talented with his lips in a more hands-on or in this case mouth-on manner. And this big mouth of his brother seemed to be good for something else. None of his lovers had ever managed to so effortlessly swallow him down. A shiver runs down his back, as he realized that his cock was trapped in his brother’s throat. He groaned again and helplessly grabbed his brother’s head and pressed it closer to his body, where he needed it most.

A hot shiver had sized him and it felt like he had drunk just too much wine. Like an out of body experience. Like when you woke up in the middle of the night and felt like you watched yourself from above, hovering weightless at the ceiling but at the same time, you could not move a muscle. When the head was awake but the body was still asleep.

It did not take long for the king to find release. The stress that had accumulated this recent weeks and months, about the poisoning of the courtiers, the wannabee king of Holland, the constant little battles at court. The spell that Anténais had caught him in and the troubles with the Queen and the church played a part as well.  
And that half of Europe seemed to be against him. He was sure of it, that it would soon turn in his favour again.

In this weightless, drugged and drunk moment, he saw as clear as after his fever dream in the monastery.

As all this and a thousand other little things fell from his shoulder under the talented mouth of his brother, Phillipe managed to coax an earth-shattering orgasm out of him. Suddenly all came rushing down on him again. His whole body trembled as he sank to the floor because his shaking legs could no longer support him.

He was now half-aware that he sat shivering on the wooden floor; his nightgown was sticking to his wet body.

Of course, he had found release of this nature even during his campaign against Amsterdam, although with women. But still, this was the first true orgasm that he achieved that actually quieted down his swirling thoughts in months, if not years.

Dazed he gazed at his brother’s swollen lips, and gazed some more, as Philippe licked his lips clean.

§Wait did Philippe swallow it all down§, was the first clear thought.

§He did… Lord… And is that drool? Yes, his chin shines with it... He was so passionate and demanding like he was gagging for my cock in his mouth. Oh, Lord. Look away from that mouth. No, not down into his lap, he is hard. Oh, sweet Philippe got an erection as he sucked you off.§

Luis looked away and out of the window. And suddenly realized that THIS was it what he had needed. His raging thoughts had stopped and he could concentrate on one single thing. He had found peace and his centre again.

Suddenly he was bone tired.

His brother must have realized this too because without preamble he dragged Luis to his feet and hastily pulled the wet dressing gown from his brother’s body. Then he simply, as if it was nothing, hoisted his brother and carried him bridal style across the room and laid him down on his bed.

Quickly Philippe followed and without many words dragged the covers on top of them.  
He pressed Luis back to his chest and almost climbed on top of him, almost burying the king’s body beneath his.

And again this seemed to be what the King had needed. While being caged in his brothers possessing embrace he finally was grounded again and found sleep.  
Luis last clear thoughts before Morpheus claimed him were that he knew in which order he had to process from here on out to achieve his goals, and what they were. It would be all right. He was safe and secure in his brother's arms.

\----

By mid-morning Philippe had enough and left the bed to piss and to eat. And assured a worried Bontemps that the king rested and all was well.

"Please tell everyone that the king is catching up on much needed and urged business and will be unavailable this day and maybe tomorrow," Philippe told Bontemps.

“With pleasure”, replied the valet relieved and with a small grateful smile. "I will ensure that you remain undisturbed.”  
He closed the door and Phillipe was alone again with the sleeping king.

Philippe grabbed a poetry book and retired again to his bed.  
Luis had begun to grown restless but after Philippe joined him again he settled down. After getting comfortable Phillippe settled the Kings body between his spread legs and rested Luis head on his chest right on top of his heart.  
The king glided into deeper sleep again.

\---

Around midday, the Chevalier opened the door and wanted to know what was going on.

Soothed and in a mild and indulging mood because of the calming presence of his sleeping bother the Prince smiled to his lover. "Hello dear."

"Mignonette? What … Is that the king in your bed?"

“Yes”, Philippe stated simply.

“What does he do there?” asked the Chevalier slightly befuddled.

“Sleeping, my dear”, answered Philippe

“I can see that, but why in your bed and not his own?”

“Because I can apparently give him something that no one else can. Not the queen and not his lovers. Seems like I can stop his silly head from thinking“, stated Phillipe calmly and quite smug.

“Are you telling me that his many lovers can't satisfy the king?” asked his lover amused.

“Exactly”, answered a very smug Price. “And I plan to use this.”

“Oh you won’t”, answer the Chevalier. "You love him too much for that.” And Phillipe could read it in Lorraine face and posture, that this upset his lover. That no matter what Luis trow at Phillipe, Phillipe would endure it, he had to endure it without a say in it.

The fact that Luis dictated this new marriage of his brother. That they grew fond of each other, and not only merely tolerated each other, was a nice bonus, but it upsetting his lover even more. That Philipe had no choice but to jump through all the hoops the king demanded he jumps trough. All the time spent during the kings bidding that cost Philipe valuable time he could and should spend with his lover and shower him in the affection the Chevalier wanted or needed... And how unhappy it made his Mignonette. And how helpless he himself was to cheer him up of taking his mind to more pleasing thoughts. Phillipe knew it, the Chevalier knew as well that they were caught in this golden wheel with no escape.

But did his Chevalier doubt his devotion and love for him?

Phillipe was tired as well, of playing these silly games. As his brother had been, before he fled to Amsterdam to war, away from the battle in Versailles. But he himself was not permitted to flea.

He was close to reaching his breaking point.

It felt like he has lost himself. Going to war had helped his brother to find himself and his balance again. Why could he not go as well? The answer lay in his lap. §Because he wants you close, for whatever reason.§

Luis had needed to fight a corporal enemy and not this shadow enemy in his own home. He had needed to go away to realise that his greatest enemy was himself. Because he had others influence him and in doing so had betrayed himself.

And more importantly still: was he, Phillipe really that desperate that he went down on Luis, his own brother. Apparently. Was he gagging for the royal prick? Why did he do it and to what end? To what would this lead? Would it free them, from their bounds? Out of the golden cage, Versailles had become in a sense for both of them each in a different way. His brother seemed to have found peace. He was more driven by a purpose in the last few days than in the last few years since laying the foundation of Versailles.

From the sidelines, he had watched his brother loos himself. Helplessly trying to tame the waves Versailles had thrown at him and which were slowly drowning him.  
But now the King had tamed the sea, it seemed. But he, Phillipe was still drowning and fustily treading water and trying to keep afloat.

It was an impulse he had followed to go down on his brother last night. He could all too well picture himself in his brother’s place and if it were not for his lover, then he would be in the same spot.

The Chevalier was vain and mean and manipulating, even downright cruel to others and ruthless to get his way. But to Phillipe, he was always considering. And patient, loving and caring, gentle when he knew that Philippe needed it or rough. The Chevalier had a 6th sense for what he needed. But that does not mean that they did not fight. And sometimes they were downright cruel and violent but never with the intent to seriously hurt each other. They had been lovers for over 10 years now and knew each other like the back of their own hand.

They could read each other minds but most of the time chose not to so. Maby he needed to tell his Chevallier how much he appreciated, no needed him, in words and deeds.

His brother lacked such a person. He had no one, beside Phillipe. But he had chosen to have no one near him.  
What, given that he was the king was maybe for the better. But he was alone and had no one he trusted implicitly.

How Philippe had longed to be that person. And here they were. But what now? They were physically close, but emotionally... not so much. Their problems would not magically disappear because they shared this night. Only Luis countless flings seemed to believe that because they scored the King for one night, that they had something more, something special. Only some like the Madame de Montespan were really clever and could hold the king's interest for more than a night or a season.  
And to influence him had been impossible, well till Anténais came along.

What came now would be decided by the king, like always. He hoped that they had a close enough relationship that Luis would not do something rash like discarding him like one of his mistresses... Philippe would do anything for his brother, but he was not so sure that his brother would return the favour.

Now that Phillipe had exposed this side of him to his ruthless brother...

Pointless to think about the what if's and tear himself up with the worry of having done the greatest mistake of his life. Like always his brother would set the beat for the dance they would dance from here on out and like always Phillipe would follow no matter what he himself wanted.

He was so lost in his musings, that the Chevalier had left without him noticing.

It would be another few hours before Luis would show signs of waking. For now, he slumbered peacefully in his brother’s lap. And Philip could enjoy it and not worry anymore.

\---

The next day Cassel confessed to the king and Louis would give his brother the order to sell his ass for France. The only way to keep the money and the little independency he had gained with it as he had struck this deal. It was so typical that Louis would take away his glory, his victory and wanted it for him.  
Live as usual. The same dance they used to dance since they could walk. The same song was playing endlessly on repeat.

And life went on…

\---

But then something extraordinary happened. William of Oranges spy tried to kill him. The Chevalier found his courage and killed the spy.

Louis showed that he had indeed changed. He showed his gratitude for defending his brother and rewarded the Chevalier by granting him a position, money and his own separate rooms.  
There was no love lost between those two, but Luis must approve in some way or the Chevalier would not be here today and would not have remained for more than 10, closer to 15 years by his side.

Lorraine won because he would not be so dependent on the whims of the Prince now and could put his talents to use different and did not have to try to fight for his place her. If the Chevalier were not Phillipe’s lover, he would have a place here in the palace.  
Lorraine was talented with money and knew how to play in these circles. He could have been well of on his own, had he not so obviously fallen in love with the Prince.  
And both Phillipe and Luis knew that it seemed only that Lorraine had forgotten it for a while.

Way back, in the early days of their relationship, Lorraine had been the reason that Phillipe did not throw his money away and had kept it close together. And together with the two lovers had learned the dance of the nobles in the Kings court and succeeded in turning the tables. They used this skill to set the tune for their own advantage. Although still playing by the rules that the king was untouchable, but still.

For Luis, it was a win because the Chevalier could now us his unique talents if he wished to apply himself and he would apply himself to please his King and show how grateful he was.

And for Phillipe, it was a win because of the strained relationship between them loosened up. After all, his lover did not need him anymore to support him.

"Why", asked Philippe simply while he dabbed the blood from his face.

"Because the first thing he did after he saw you were hurt, was to kill this person who hurt you", replied the King while he looked imploringly at his brother. Both turned to the Chevalier, who instantly began to ramble about how thankful he was to the king.

And then Louis did something more. He granted Phillipe’s wish to fight and win this war for France, for his King and brother, for himself. To prove to himself that he was good at something, that he was worth something, to shut up all his opposers and show them up.

\---

A night of passion with his Chevalier followed and then he was off to fulfil his destiny.


	2. Philippe

Philippe returned from war with more pomp than his late brother, who had sneaked into the palace without notifying anyone. What had been possible for King Louis had not been possible for Philippe.

So it came that he sat on top of his horse in front of the gates of Versailles in a troupe formation with his men. They would escort him and the carriage inside in honour of his glorious victories.

He sat there surrounded by his men, of whom he could all call brother after what they hade gone through together. They had fought, bleed and celebrated together, as well as mourned those that would never come home to their families. Those unlucky or lucky ones, that never left the battlefield.  
But in a way, they all would leave a piece of themselves behind on those muddy battlegrounds.

Everyone had changed; some could cope better with the often traumatic experiences than other. He could still hear the thunder of the canons, the screaming, clashing of steel. He would be forever haunted by the screams of men, boys that screamed after their mother as they lay dying, torn apart by shrapnel, or wounded and buried alive under their dead comrades.

It would be a long time till he would no longer smell the sheer stench of the battlefield, of rotten corpses and the sweet and sickly smell of infection. The burned black powder of a fired gun and the smell of grass would hound him the longest, for sure.

But it had not been his first time on the battlefield and he at least thought that he could cope better this time. He had thought that he had been prepared for the horrors of the battlefield, the madness of a battle camp; well he had only been partly right.

Philippe had not been able to save everyone. He might have been a brilliant battle strategist, but sometimes you had to sacrifice some mean, to win a battle and ultimately the war. 

Especially the terrified screams of Etienne would hound him, as they had amputated one of his legs.  
Etienne had only been 16 and a good boy, instantly a favourite of everyone because of his sunny and happy nature.  
And Etienne had had luck on his side, he survived through sheer dumb luck, got out of many situations with his clever mind but during the last important battle that turned the tide of the war to their side, his luck left him.  
While Phillippe won this battle and consequently the war, Etienne was not so lucky.

He got caught in a blast and shrapnel got stuck in his legs. Philippe could only watch in dawning horror as Etienne went down silently. But as the shock had left Etienne, he had begun to scream.  
They had tried to remove all pieces of metal out of his legs. Philippe had held him during this painful procedure. But it was clear after a few days that while one leg recovered nicely, the other one was not so lucky.  
They filled him up with brandy, sat on his chest and the medic did his gruesome task.  
And then infection had set, had poisoned his blood and in his fever dreams he had screamed and screamed and woken up the whole camp. They had given him more brandy, but that could numb the physical and emotional pain only for so long. In the end, it had been too much stress on the young body. Sometimes he thought it would have been better if the blast would have killed the boy or that they should have granted him mercy, before dragging it out a few more pain-filled days. 

Many nights he had celebrated a hollow victory like this with his mean around the campfires. They had drunken themselves into oblivion together and they had drunken in remembrance of their fallen brothers, like Etienne.  
Before they had been a prince, farmers, tailors, chevaliers and such, but in those moments they were all brothers.

And during many a sleepless night, he had wandered around camp and had kept his fellow sleepless brother's company. They had simply wandered silently next to each other or sat in a loose circle staring into the burning flames of the campfires.  
Sometimes when he had felt so useless he had joined his brothers in the medic tents and tried to ease some of the pain of the wounded, even if it was just to hold their hands and listen to their worries, or sang with them. Hell, he had even prayed uncounted hail Maris with the dying. In these minutes and hours, it had not mattered what he believed or did not believe. What was important was that it had given the dying faith and peace. Some had gotten better. Some had even recovered and trough their faith in the lord they had managed to endure this. They had managed to go out there and throw themselves headfirst into the next skirmish with the possibility of leaving the battlefield unscathed, with a free pass back to the medics or in the worst case to never leave it, at least not alive.

Ah, the lucky ones that had something to believe in. Even if it was just a young maiden back home, a family or a task like taking over the bakery shop of heirs fathers.

Then there had been those that had lost faith in everything and that just wanted to go home. Or dye.

Some had recklessly thrown themselves into the battle, some would come back, some not. They had to prove to themselves that they would survive and were the ones in control, even if it was the choice to take their own lives.

There had been deserters. Some who ran away and were caught and executed. And some that left by putting the barrel end of a gun in their mouth, or a knife to their wrists.

Soon it had not mattered that he was the brother of the king and they “only” nobleman and commoners.

But from now on, when he would ride through the doors of this golden cage, it would matter to which father you had been born to. Cruel was the knowledge that they returned into a world that had gone one. Had kept spinning without them and would, could not understand what had happened outside of the shelter walls of France. Some would break because they could not handle this. Because society would treat them like the war never happened while they really needed care and attention. A slow and gentle easing into society and help to overcome the horrors they survived, and it better not be the burning comfort of brandy and wine, at least not too long or too much of it. Sure some would throw themselves into creating, into building something, like becoming a gardener. But some would turn to cruelty against those weaker than themselves with an easy target on their face. 

____

He himself felt like a stranger as he sat there in front of Versailles. He was not the careless Philippe anymore that would gossip with the Chevalier. He was the battle-worn Philippe that had bleed and cried for his country, for his brother, his king.  
Out there he had seen the real world and as he sat upon his horse outside the golden gates of Versailles, he was painfully reminded of this.

He would return to this madhouse because his king commanded it.  
How silly of him to willfully return to his golden cage. He had the mad Idea to just run, to go away somewhere else; somewhere far away, where no one would know him.  
What a ludicrous thought. He had no money and he sure as hell knew that he would be hanged, or worse, for loving other men and daring to act upon his desires. He knew very well that it had only been Louis sheltering hands that had kept him and would hopefully further keep him from the wrath of the church. Only because he was the brother of the king and because it weakens his position and enabled the King to shine even more was he allowed his indulgence.

Dutifully he rode into the cage, greeted his brother and played nice like he only returned for a short ride outside of Versatile or a Holiday from the coast.

___

He realises very quickly that life had gone one without him. And indeed the first few hours and days he felt like an intruder, an outsider. Even his Chevalier and his wife had arranged themselves with each other and then there was this screaming bundle that was his son.  
How effortlessly and natural the Chevalier had held this screaming bundle like he had done so thousands of times before, which he probably had.

___

But while certain things had changed, the relationship with his brother had not and never would. It had always been the same, no matter what happened.

It needed only a few hours after he got “home” and he had the king lying on his back in the bed were he normally seduced his mistresses. But this time it was the king that was on his back and had his legs open for his lover above him.

His very eager lover that ate him out with such relish, the king seldom had for one of his mistresses.  
The hair of the king was a mess, a blush spread across his pale complexion from his cheeks to his treasure trial whose end was hidden under the dark curly tresses of his lover’s hair, that spilled onto Loui's belly.

Moaning like a common whore the king arched up to press his body closer to his lover and get more contact. The wicked tongue that licked and sucked at his asshole was maddening. And when its owner felt like it, he snakingly bit but always gently.

The passage of time was eluding Luis at this moment, all he felt was the burning touch of his lover.  
Temporarily he lost the awareness over his body, again it felt like he was floating and having an out of body experience. He floated above the breathtaking scene that unfolded below him and realised to what a mess Philippe had reduced him to with only his wicked mouth.  
Suddenly he did not watch his in ecstasy writing body anymore but was lying there staring at the ceiling and awareness washed over him sharply. The waves came crashing down on him and for a second it felt like drowning because it was all too much. And slowly he could only feel certain body parts again, not all of them at once; where his ass rested on the sheets, or how his hair stuck to his face and right now his hands that held on the bedsheets so tightly that they might tear.

And here he was, screaming hoarsely, shaking legs and helplessly moving his head from one side to the other.  
Not knowing what to do with his hands. Should he push his lovers head more insistently where he wanted it, where he needed him? Or simply bury his hands in the dark raven locks of his lover or rather grab helplessly his own hair?

The decision was taken from him as his lover exchanged his stabbing thong with a wicked finger that knew all the right places to teas and to touch. The royal cock found his way into his lover’s mouth, or was it the other way around? One almost painful suck, more roughly than any woman would dare to because she would not know how good it felt and where the border between rough and too painful was. One final painful stab with two fingers that mercilessly pressed down on his prostate and the king let out a beastly scream and came and came and blacked out.

Philippe swallowed, licked his lips and smugly looked down at his passed out brother. Lucky for him the walls of this specific room were especially thick and soundproof or as close to as possible.

He took himself in his hand and it only needed a few quick strokes to find completion and spread out his release on his brother’s bell, defiling the king.

He giggled as he reached down and raised his glass full of red wine from the floor. While raising it to his lips he found his composer again, the smug little smile of his lips was the only indication of his mirth as he emptied the glass in one gulp, then pushed his sweaty shirt over his head, flipped his hair behind his shoulder and dragged the king up to the head of the bead.  
He found a comftable position for himself and his royal highness. He pulled the crumpled sheets that had landed early in their dance on the floor together with all of Luis and most of his own clothes over them and snuggled. Soon he fell asleep after this satisfying workout.

Phillippe, you still have it, was the last clear thought. He was still in the game; he just needed time and the right entry. But Luis was a good starting point.


End file.
